I can't fight with her
by ALightInTheDark12
Summary: Punches, kicks, blood, mixed emotions, all of that in the championship fight. ENTIRE AU. ONE-SHOT. Brittana. Brittany and Santana's POV.


So, here's another Brittana one-shot (I think I like to see the world in flames). It's an entire AU, kind of inspired in Taylor Swift's 'Bad Blood' video and in the UFC.

And for that ANNOYING guest that only bugs me off I want to say that probably you 'understand' Santana's essence for two reasons: one, you are actually a writer of the show and you worked with Ryan and you know the whole background of her, or two: you are just like her, hidden and mean with everybody, screwing everything up and at the end finding that you are 'actually good', and you are trying to screen yourself in her. Either way, have the guts to make an account and say it to my face :)

And for those who are not annoying as hell, hope you like it. Fav, follow or review please, and remember that English is not my first language.

* * *

 **I can't fight with her**

 **Santana's POV**

There are times when I keep wondering how I've gotten to where I am now, walking in front of lots of people wearing a black tank top with LOPEZ at the back written in huge gold letters, short pants that doesn't leaves too much to the imagination, barefoot and with my favorite pair of gloves for MMA.

I'm one fight away to win another championship belt, the third one. Five years of intense training, two with consecutive winnings, qualifying for submission, and beating that entire bunch of losers who shouldn't even think to set a foot in the octagon.

I don't know if their coaches really believe that with sweet words in their ears they will get them to become experts from one day to the other, or in the moment of the fight. I don't doubt that some night of hot passion has to be involved for them to qualify, and is reflected because they doesn't last more than half a round against me.

«I'm definitely going to win this».

I sink my head a little in the bathtub with boiling water, it cover me up to the nose and the smell of cinnamon calms my anxiety a little, eating chocolates brought straight from Berlin. I feel like a kind of diva for asking this kind of things before my fights; but after all I am, I am a champion. I deserve this and many other things.

I look up and focus on a point on the ceiling, thinking about the name of the girl I have to overcome: Brittany S. Pierce.

I've heard a lot about her, that she is pretty athletic and beautiful, a girl who should focus more on things that have nothing to do with violence, such as knitting or making cakes at home. The fight will last four rounds, and if she is described like that then I don't think she will last beyond the first one.

I didn't do my research on the internet about her, like everybody does when they tell me the name of my next opponent, so quite simply because I prefer to spend my time in training and thinking about my ways to beat whoever who gets in my way to fame in women's fights.

I think that the only thing I find a bit striking is the fact that she has William Schuester as her coach, one of the great talents in mixed martial arts that has been in the world. Accurate in his punches, definite in every attack, every punch and kick producing damage in the moment, all of that and at the end he had to retire for a fractured knee in combat.

Since then he's dedicated to instruct, and many commentators say that he makes underwater, being highly selective with their apprentices, with relaxation routines and words that awaken the spirit to move forward, while my coach is not the kind of women who mince words, saying nice words of encouragement and ensuring that everything will be alright.

"All right champ, get ready" says Sue Sylvester, my annoying but clever coach. "We will call in about twenty minutes".

I nod and breathe deeply a couple more times, to stay with the sweet scent of cinnamon. She gives me a small smile and closes the door of the locker room when she leaves.

I force myself to get out of the water, I take off my wet underwear and in fifteen seconds I put on my usual outfit to climb the octagon. I stretch my arms and legs, hitting a little the punching bag that hangs in front of me, visualizing in it the face of suffering of the girl that I'm about to knock off.

I take the remote control near a bench and put the list of songs that inspire me in each of my fights, I even dare to sing a few verses because luckily I'm alone. My favorite is soon to appear, and I repeat it about five times: _Girl On Fire_. I'm sure Alicia Keys was inspired on me to write that song, it describes me so well that I just can't help but thank her for bringing it to my life.

Before I can start singing the beautiful verses of that song, Sue reenters with a lot of paparazzi behind her, making questions about how I feel and if I'm sure I'm going to win, many of them say that Brittany is on who all the bets are, like if any of their words were going to make me feel any kind of fear. I roll my eyes and reach out, taking the first microphone that I find.

"All I will say is that you have to be ready, this will be a night that no one will forget".

Questions continue while we approach to the octagon, when I step out the crowd goes wild, they point at me, they cry my name; they want to be me. I approach to some of the fans and sign a couple of autographs, I take a lot of photos with genuine smiles on them, even a guy kisses me on the cheek, and I bite my cheek to keep from hitting him in the face.

I climb the stairs while the referee presents me, saying lots of words that describe my weight, my age and height, like if they really need to know such of information.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you know her, the girl of submission, the lady of the fights, our future champion" a spotlight focuses on me, and I raise both arms, smiling slightly. "Santana Lopez!"

A roar comes from the back of the auditorium, and it gets closer to the octagon, it deafens me to see so many people ready to see me succeeding again. I raise my fist and the crowd follows my action.

"Lopez! Lopez! Lopez!" they all shout, and I can't help but feeling the brightest star of the place.

I enter the octagon and turn on my heels to see my opponent, that's when I first experience the feeling of take off my gloves and give up the fight, because watching that long blond hair tied in a ponytail, those blue eyes and one of the childish faces that can may exist in the universe makes me to reconsider everything. EVERYTHING.

Yes, she's a pretty girl, like many against which I have fought, but she has something different, something that makes her so… so… I think the only thing I could say is that she is indescribable, and I'm not sure if all of this that happens now will end up in something good.

"Listen to me, sloppy baby, because I'll tell this only once" Sue snaps out when I approach to the fence, and I can't help but roll my eyes, "I don't mind what kind of thing that this girl wakes up in your panties, I want to see the third belt in your hands, you understand?"

I deeply look at her eyes, with them she finish telling me the string of insults that the judges don't allow her to say at this moment. I get lost in the blue irises, somewhat similar to ones of the girl I'm about to beat.

I don't want to hit her, I don't want to see her bleeding or with broken bones, I can't look up without knowing that I'm going to meet with her icy eyes; it boils down to the fact that I can't fight with her.

"Was I clear?" she growls, and I roll my eyes once more.

"Yeah, yeah, got it"

She holds me by the cheeks, she gently caresses my cheekbones and kisses my forehead, and I still think that those mood swings have to be a serious problem. I can swear that the rapid beating of my heart is telling me that I could have a stroke at any time.

"Fighters, center".

I finish adjusting my gloves and make an effort to not swallow the mouthpiece, I walk to the center of the octagon, avoiding at all costs to meet that blue so stunning. I focus more on the graceful and firm way in which she walks.

The stocky man who will be supervising, dressed all in black, gives the latest information of the faults, we must keep in mind that while this is a championship fight and that we should also care about the welfare of the other. That is quite contradictory.

"Got it?" he asks, and both of us nod energetically. "Cool, now shake hands".

I stretch my left arm trembling, she stretches her arm firmly and shakes my hand tightly, I don't dare to look into her eyes, and she releases me in two seconds.

The referee turns to the panel of judges, he make a few adjustments on his watch, the crowd begins to remain silent, in a blink all I hear is the sound of my breathing and hers, almost as hectic. The lights of the cameras that broadcast the event live doesn't take longer to appear in my eyes. Now I'm fully known.

The whistle of the referee interrupts my moment of wandering, I swallow everything that is forming in my throat and stretch my fist, giving the first blow of the night against her right cheek. And I can't help but feel bad for having done so.

* * *

 **Brittany's POV**

I keep pinching the sandbag, combining them with some jumping kicks and an occasional hook to the liver. I hit that magazine scrap, one of many that say how weak I am, and how much they expect to see my blood running into the ground. They assure that I'll flee when I have to face that Santana Lopez chick, but they are so wrong that I can't wait for the time when I can make fun of them.

I mean, I know and I've heard that that girl is a beast, that she always submits her opponents with a vulgar hold to the neck, the style that everyone uses in this kind of fighting. She should be a little more original, after all she's the favorite to win this.

The bag moves forward, I dodged it and connect one last hook to its side, I make it to stop moving and keep walking in the locker room, feeling like a caged lion. I settle my ponytail with another league, I look at myself in the mirror and I train with my glare.

I can have a weak look, frail, 'a girl who shouldn't be devoted to this, but that she should be doing home stuff'. I'm old enough to know what I want, and what I want now is to beat that girl.

I stand in the middle of the room, I sit crossing my legs and spending a few minutes for my breathing exercises and meditation, I focus on the energy flowing through my body, in how strong I am, on how much I want to win my first championship. I worked very hard for years, and now I'm about to board a caged octagon, ready to give the best of me.

"Britt?"

I open my eyes a little in the right moment when Will comes to my locker room, with a steaming cup of chamomile tea in his hands. Although it's not my favorite flavor it reassures me nerves, and it's the only thing that judges allow me to drink, I once tried one of sandalwood and they considered it as a stimulant, and I was about to be disqualified.

"It's time, are you ready?" he kneels in front of me and hands me the cup, putting a friendly hand on my shoulder and with a big smile. I take the cup and give it a couple of sips even though I burn my tongue.

"I'd never felt more prepared".

He helps me to get up and I leave the cup half-finished in a nearby table, I took my gloves and go out to face the enormous press, lots of photographs with flash makes me to begin to see small dots, the questions about why a girl like me is in this doesn't slow to appear, some wishes me success, and the ones dedicated to the entertainment ask about my love life. I'll never allow them that kind of details.

"Britt, Britt, a word please?" asks Quinn, a reporter for the New York Times, one of the girls that has always been in all my fights, and although I didn't talk to her outside this context I think I can consider her a friend.

"I will only say that I'm very excited to be here, I'll give my best and I will make that the money you give today worth's it".

I sign a couple of autographs, I give photographs, I hold hands and hug people who say that today it's their birthdays. Two girls and a boy kiss me in the cheeks, and I can't stop feeling flushed. It will take me a little more time to get used to this life.

I keep walking with William on my heels, with all and his light limp for his broken knee, he goes giving me a great shoulder massage while I throw punches to the air and look at the camera in front of me like if it was Santana.

Somebody announce my age, weight, height, that I'm almost a rookie at this, things not everyone should be interested to know, and they are not interested, but the more things the celebrity gossip can get it's better for them. Get in the octagon just in time when she turns on her heels, the moment when our eyes meet for a mere five second period.

"Fighters, center".

I loose my arms and legs as I approach to the referee, occasionally looking up, but I don't meet her eyes, all I see is that she has her head down and she wobbles a little when she moves forward.

The referee gives us the same advice given and that is watched in every fight, the camera that broadcast live doesn't stop spinning around us, sometimes focusing and sometimes pointing to the crowd.

"Got it?" he asks, and both she and I nod energetically, but she keeps avoiding eye contact. "Cool, now shake hands".

I stretch my hand firmly, sure of what I'm doing, while she does it trembling, and to some point I like to know that I get to intimidate such a professional fighter as she is. Although I shouldn't trust it, I could have a very unpleasant surprise.

I alternate my look between her eyes, the referee that takes instructions by the panel of judges, and the camera, which didn't realized that was only focused on me. Out of the corner of my left eye I see a commentator, pointing and saying who knows what to the television viewers. I'll know when I can see the fight recorded.

Referee puts the whistle on his lips and raises a hand, from there everything begins to seem to go in slow motion, from the moment of the beep until he lows his hand and pushes back, starting the fight.

It's at the moment when his hand disappears when the first punch comes into my right cheek, almost hitting me on the ear, but with that she achieves to stun me a little. I move back off before she can give the second punch, which was determined to hit my other cheek.

She has her eyes wide, she has done since she hit me first, like if she were trying to tell me something, I could swear it's an apologize, but I'm not in moments to be condescending, not until one of the two of us give up.

I rush forward, instinctively she covers her head with both hands, moment at which I can give her kick in the stomach, she contracts slightly and gives me free field to hit her on the right cheek twice, and at the same time I discover myself enough to another of her hooks to disorient me and so she can take me by the neck when I bend. Neither for a second she's going to beat me so fast, especially now that the crowd screams her name; they praise that she's 'about to win'.

Her free hand found the wrist of her left arm, the one with which she tries to submit me, when I turn my head just a little bit she catches me completely, my nose stays directly in her armpit. For more grotesque as this may sound, I've had lots of armpits in my face, but hers has a very peculiar odor, is so unique that I can't describe it. I have to admit that I like it.

"Give up now that you can do it" she growls with the piece between her teeth, a second before the referee approaches to watch my state.

"Keep dreaming".

I release my right arm and reach for a blow to her head, disorienting her enough that her grip on my head perishes. I sneak both hands between her arms, with my left leg I do a sweep on her right foot, and when she drops my elbow hits her stomach. She set me free and I stand while I watch her take deep breaths, Will told me that this is the perfect moment to strike again, but I'm not that kind of so violent person. Although, being strict, the situation warrants it.

I walk in the octagon, raising my hands and moving my fingers, the audience responds chanting my name in such a deafening symphony that neither Beethoven himself would have heard, ironically being deaf.

"Pierce, Pierce, Pierce!" I see my coach, he's hitting the fence and pointing at something behind me, I guess Santana is finally able to stand up.

I turn right when I see Santana pouncing on me, I do a _split_ before she can come near enough, she stumbles and I give a glorious punch on her stomach, so strong that she has to kneel to breath, again, and she squeaks at the same time. I stand up and I'm about to give a direct blow to her head when the referee gets in my way, telling me that I'm admonished for an illegal stunt.

The first round finish and the medical team enters to assist Santana. I get back to my corner, Will let me take small sips of water and he massages my legs, they didn't hurt and I didn't feel them so numb so far.

"You're killing it, Britt, just don't do that again and I assure you that the fight will be yours".

I looked up over his shoulder, on the other corner the terrifying Sue Sylvester yells a lot of insults while the doctors are checking her face and that she can breathe normally. Santana nods and drinks water, I'm sure that she's not listening the talk from that woman. And then she decides to look up, to find my eyes.

Something is hidden behind that brown gaze, which I interpret as a mixture of 'get me out of here' and 'I'll tear you into pieces, for this and for whatever lies ahead'. I give her a genuine smile, I know that because behind me the commentators begin to make their stupid speculations. Everyone knows that I'm inclined to anyone who's willing to love me, but that kind of relationship can't arise in a context like this… does it?

«No, no. It can't, now get focus on winning this», I chide myself, looking away and concentrating on the clear eyes of Will.

The referee returns to the center and whistles on his whistle, the medical team go away, Sue finish screaming at Santana and she stands up, loosening her arms and legs. I think that the motivational speech based in profanity is good for something.

"Show them what you're made off, champ" the forehead of Will hits mine and he gets off the octagon.

Santana and I walked to the center, the referee asks if she's fit. She just nods and prepares her combat guard, covering her face with one hand and with the other her stomach, while I cover my face with both hands. That simple act tells me that she's in pain, and I could get advantage of it, but I'm not that kind of person.

The bell with which the second round begins sounds, the audience screams our names while I throw a punch to her cheek, she covers it with her left arm, I throw a hook against her stomach and with a strange movement she achieves that her two arms are up to my hip.

Her gaze quickly finds mine, I outline a small, shy smile, which surely is overshadowed by the mouthpiece, before in an oversight I can lift one of my long white legs, I move so quickly to her face that she can't even duck to dodge.

When she widens her eyes again and turns her head slightly I can smile in peace, because I know that from the beginning of the second round the victory is all mine.

* * *

 **Santana's POV**

Her instep inevitably collides against my nose, and I swear I heard something cracking inside my skull. Outside, the crowd and commentators, Sue and Will, everyone is silent. My eyes moisten at the moment, I grit my teeth and see that shy smile that was on her lips now becomes a grimace of decision in what she's doing.

I see it written all over her face: she will not leave it like that.

I separate our limbs junction and immediately my hands travel to my nose, drops of blood begin to slip and form small stains on the floor. I look up when the hook connects with my right cheek, a kick numbs my left thigh and another kick comes to my face.

I step back and dodge her attempts to kick my legs and stomach, feeling my nose keeps dripping. «C'mon, pussy, it's only blood. You have been at the same situation a lot of times and you're still standing, you will not let overcome on you that this astonishingly strong girl beats you up».

Brittany is cunning, but I also notice that she's somewhat awkward. I don't know if she notice it, but she takes some time to think about her next attack, and when she think about it her body postures prevents me of what she's about to do.

But, I don't deny that that kick and punch were perfect movements, and having received both brought me absolutely not constructive critics by Sue. The punch managed to get the air out of me, and the aftermath of the kick are still present, I feel a bit stunned and dizzy, and my nose hasn't stopped bleeding.

Brittany moves forward, in another warned attempt to hit me. I shake my head to the left and just stretch my arm, for not covering herself her delicate face strikes hopeless against my fist, a slight chuckle escapes me for the so funny face she makes.

She continues moving forward and collapses on the floor, and stand still. I stood there, motionless, frozen, not even knowing if my breathing is normal, and the screams of the audience increasingly silence. I'm not sure if I just kill her or what.

Something pushes me to move near her, a boost to something. It's like a need for bring protection, but also mixed with regret for what I did. I'd never felt like that in a fight, and I hope that feeling never happens again, I can't win feeling like that.

"Are you…?" I growl with the piece in my teeth, and I fortunately didn't take it off me.

The rotary blow comes without warning, the crowd goes wild at her standing, with a trickle of blood running down the right corner of her mouth. I can breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I'm not a murderer, or at least I do it the first two seconds.

"I don't need your pity" she growls.

She launches to attack, throwing and giving one, two, three strikes, a kick in my right leg and one in my stomach, pushing me against the fence of the octagon. The last hook that I see hits my nose again, and now I swear that it's broken.

I exhale through the mouth, a fountain of blood gets out there, the perfect distractor for one last kick to connect against my stomach, causing me nausea and that the poor lunch that I could have treats to come out.

Sue insults me, the audience and my worshipers are silent again, for then to burst into cheers containing her name. She has won.

I fall on my knees, holding my stomach with one hand and with the other I do the unthinkable, something that has only happened in my worst nightmares, something I swore to never to do, because that's not the style of Lima Heights Adjacent, that's not my style, is not me, but I have no choice.

I hit the ground, the referee jumps in my defense whistling on his whistle and taking Brittany by the waist, preventing her to do whatever she was going to do. I see her going back to her corner, raising her arms and received a warm hug from her coach, while I find the polished shoes and expensive pants of Sue. I don't dare look up.

"You're what follows a shame" she spits the words like if they were poison, and I shrug my shoulders a bit, before the doctors force me to sit to finish checking my wounds.

I still feel weak, the nausea doesn't stop and neither the dizziness that accompanies to hum. My vision blurs a bit more and more, I'm sure going to faint at any time.

"I don't know why I've been spending the last two years of you, there are so many new talents who would kill, listen to me" she kneels and takes my cheeks, I see the anger behind her eyes, "THEY WOULD KILL to have a coach like me, now please remind me why I shouldn't leave you here".

"Feel free to do so, I'll find someone else…" I reply with a faltering voice, and I see how she tenses her jaw before leaving. She and I both know that she will not leave me here, she's just simply annoyed.

I close my eyes and breathe in peace while the doctors do their job, checking my nose (which in effect is broken) and the hits in my stomach. The other bruises that surely I'll have in the morning are marks of war, the evidence that I was beaten by the new champion.

I stay sit while I listen the referee announce the triumph of a rookie like her, they do a lot of questions about how she feels for defeating me, and she responds with complete sweetness to all of them. But her voice sounds close, very close…

I barely open my eyes just before she kneels in front of me, she puts one of my arms around her shoulders and helps me up, I winced and the nausea doesn't leave me alone.

"This is a test of fellowship, thanks to her I have learned from my mistakes, and learned to better observe at my opponent" I open my eyes and turn my head slowly, I find her blue eyes and a smile. "I appreciate this and more, Santana".

And the next thing I know when I open my eyes is that I'm in the nursery with a cold compress on my nose, white sheets cover my body. What stands out is a hand firmly holding my right hand, the sounds of heavy breathing and blond hair loose on the side of the bed.

I cross my hand over my lap, and winced back, but now I dedicate myself to slide the long strands of golden hair between my fingers, for so she looks up and gives a little jump in her place.

"What are you doing here?" there's still drowsiness in my voice.

"You fainted while I talking to the press, I couldn't leave you just like that" she bites her lower lip with a little more force than the necessarily, "… I felt a bit guilty for everything that happened in the octagon, I also feel that you left me win. It's impossible for someone like me…"

"Hey, hey, don't say that" we lock eyes, and the weird feeling comes back. "I'll never let anybody to beat me up, you're good, keep training and you will become a world champion".

Surely there are people who will believe I let myself to be beaten, or that just something in this girl made me to give in. It's nothing of that, she's actually good, and she should know that, good enough to give me a beaten up that I'll remember for a very long time.

"You really think so?" she asks in an innocent tone, something lights up her face, the proof is that outlined smile.

"I assure you that".

He gets up and hugs me, surrounding me in the best way that she can with her arms. Her nose is in my neck and I hear her muttering something, I don't know if this is the kind of things that other fighters do after receiving a good beating that was broadcast live worldwide. Anyway, I like the feeling that runs through my body.

"I think that, after all, lose from time to time is a good thing".

She hugs me again, and this time I sink my face a bit in her neck. I don't know, I really enjoy my defeat, at least if after I can spend a moment like this next to the medical attention.

And who knows, maybe the company of Brittany will make me heal a little faster.


End file.
